remember when i was so strange and likeable
by lettereyecolor
Summary: "...Ian doesn't lose the smile on his face and Mickey feels fucking amazing because that smile makes him feel like he's done something right for once." Ian x Mickey fic, a semi-prompt fill from the kink meme on livejournal. Set after the kiss in 3x05 and before the hurt in 3x06. Rated M for themes and language.


Posting this before I lose my nerve.

This is a semi-prompt fill from the Ian x Mickey kink meme on livejournal. The prompt was: _Ian/Mickey, Bottom!Ian- Ian discovers how much he loves to bottom now that Mickey isn't afraid of kissing him. and he begs for Mickey's dick like a whore. _from killtheflesh.

It ended up differently than what I intended so please be kind if it sucks and is completely OC for both Ian and Mickey. My face is so red right now.

* * *

remember when i was so strange and likeable

By the time Ian arrived, Mickey was already buzzed and on his fourth cigarette of the night. The painkillers had kicked in a while ago and Mickey was able to sit on the roof without feeling the stitches in his ass cheek. He was annoyed though and he hated waiting, especially when he was horny and all he wanted was to get off.

"You're late." His tone lacked the bite he'd intended and he sounded all lazy and subdued, but fuck it, he was feeling good and high and drunk.

Ian sat next to him against the wall and grabbed the bottle out of his hand, taking a long drink. Mickey watched him, watched his mouth and his throat and his eyes close as the alcohol burned down and Mickey felt warmth in his stomach and his dick twitch in his pants.

"Family meeting. Fiona…" Ian shook his head and pulled a bag of weed out of his pocket. Mickey bit back a comment about how he didn't give a shit about his sister and all the other bullshit. He decided that probably wouldn't be the best way to get in Ian's pants, so he cracked open another bottle and drank. "She wanted us to know the game plan for when CPS takes us tomorrow. Anyway," Ian lit a joint. "Just give me a minute. I'll catch up." He leaned his head back against the wall and blew the smoke up into the night.

They sat there in silence passing the joint back and forth and Mickey was feeling warm and fucking amazing. He lolled his head to the side and watched Ian turn all fuzzy and Mickey had to bite his lip from saying a bunch of shit that would mean something to Ian even though Mickey probably wouldn't remember any of it in the morning.

Ian turned to watch him and smiled. Goddamn it, Mickey thought, and the next thing he knew, he was fiddling with the belt buckle on Ian's jeans and was lowering the zipper and was getting his hand on Ian's half hard dick. He felt the button on his jeans being undone and then Ian's hand was in his pants. Mickey kept his eyes on Ian's face as he started working his hand up and down and up and down.

Ian takes another drag from the joint and closes his eyes. Little sighs and moans start coming from his throat and his hand speeds up a little on Mickey's hard dick and Mickey smiles and laughs a little. Fucking golden. Ian lazily cracks one eye open and smiles back at Mickey before squeezing his hand a little making Mickey's hips jump up into his hand. Mickey retaliates and soon their jerking each other off like it's a race and they're trying to see who will shoot their load first. Fucking Gallagher. Mickey is a competitive bastard, Ian should know that by now, and with his mind all fuzzy and happy, well, fuck if Mickey didn't want Ian to come first more than anything else at the moment.

"Fuck." Ian's voice is all raspy and breathless and he turns his head to look up at the dark sky, his chest and shoulders freezing for a second and then he's slumping back, heaving gulps of air and Mickey feels fucking aces when he sees that and feels the come on his hand. Ian stills his hand for a second and Mickey moves his hips a little because he's so fucking close now that he's seen Ian lose it. Ian turns back to Mickey and his hand squeezes and is practically flying up and down on Mickey's dick and soon, Mickey closes his eyes as the orgasm rushes through his veins.

He's out of breath, but laughs anyway and blindly reaches over to Ian and snags the joint. He takes a long drag and turns to Ian and sees his glassy eyes and satisfied, shit eating grin and fuck. Mickey thinks he's one of the nicest things he's ever seen, but he also wants to wipe that damn smile off his face. Mickey can't help it and grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him forward and smashes his lips against Ian's. It's short and sloppy but Mickey feels it's a perfect end to some mutual jerking off.

They keep drinking and soon, Ian is just as shitfaced as Mickey and when Ian gets shitfaced, he talks. A lot. But Mickey doesn't really care or listen because Ian's jeans are still undone and his shirt has ridden up his stomach and Mickey wants to tell him to show off more of what he's got, but then his ears pick up 'Roger Spikey' and tries to tune in to what Ian's saying.

"What?"

Ian blinks at him. "Just saying I used to do that with Roger Spikey a lot and it never felt like that." He laughs a little, and Mickey wants to tell him to cut the girl bullshit, but then. Wait a fucking minute.

"Spikey never took it up the ass?"

Ian rolls his eyes, annoyed, but fuck that, Mickey is both annoyed and curious and of the two of them, Mickey is more screwed because of it.

"He did. But he was a bitch about it."

"Why?" Mickey swallows a mouthful of whiskey and regrets starting this conversation because he's not in his right head and he normally wouldn't give two shits about Ian's past dicks.

Ian shrugs. "He was always complaining about how he was the one taking it and never giving it."

Mickey snorts and swallows a comment on the tip of his tongue about needy gay bitches, but then his eyes squint.

"So wait…lemme get this shit straight. Spikey always took. Meaning." Ian turns and meets his eyes. "Fucking hell, Gallagher, have you never taken it before?"

Ian shoves him a bit and Mickey winces when he feels the stitches in his ass cheek.

"I have, but Roger was just…" Ian shook his head.

"A pussy." Mickey tried to help him out a bit because the weed and the painkillers and the alcohol and Ian's hands make him a talker too. Fuck.

Ian laughs. "Big. Too big. And it hurt and I couldn't come and I didn't like it. That made him bitch at me all the time." Ian doesn't look at him, just lights a cigarette and Mickey stays quiet, something in his stomach clenching. Yeah, he's really regretting starting this conversation.

They're silent and the noise from the El train distracts Mickey for a bit, but when it's gone, it's the two of them again and Mickey's head won't let this rest.

"Anyone else?" He finishes off his whiskey and tosses the bottle into the corner of the roof.

"Yeah. Kash."

Mickey waits, but when it's clear Ian isn't going to give it up anytime soon, he kicks his leg. "And?"

"And…" Ian smiles. "He was… how do I phrase this umm… he was less than well endowed." He looks at Mickey meaningfully and takes a drag of the cigarette and blows smoke slowly out of his mouth.

"Is that shithead speak for he had a tiny dick?"

Ian laughs. "Yeah, whenever I took, he had to suck me off cuz I couldn't come on his dick by itself." Ian just grins at him and Mickey's quiet for a second and then his head falls back on the wall and he laughs so goddamn hard, he can feel it in his stomach.

"Jesus Christ, Gallagher," Mickey takes another drag of Ian's joint. "You sure know how to pick 'em. Present company excluded." He grins.

Ian shakes his head. "And Lloyd…" he trails off at the sneer on Mickey's face.

"I swear to Christ," Mickey mumbles around the joint. If Ian tells him this is some sort of Goldilocks shit and that the third time's the charm bullshit about Grandpas dick is just right and the perfect fucking size for his asshole, then Mickey will toss him off this goddamn roof.

Ian silently watches him for a while and Mickey grabs the bottle of painkillers from his pocket to keep himself from fidgeting. He pops a pill in his mouth and downs half a beer with it.

"No." Ian says quietly. "He never made me…" he trails off and Mickey looks at his face. Ian shrugs. "We mostly just blew each other or I fucked him. I just figure I'm only ever gonna be a top. Can't ever come the other way." Ian reaches and snags the joint and takes a long drag. Mickey kicks him in the leg because he will never admit it, but he really hates this conversation and he has no other way to show it.

They each fall into silence. Mickey can tell Ian is sort of annoyed with him because he shared all of his shit and Mickey knows Ian wants him to share some of his shit, but boo fucking hoo. It doesn't work that way.

* * *

The next day, the throbbing in Mickey's head matches the throbbing in his ass cheek and he reminds himself that drunk old lady was the last time he'll put his neck on the line for Ian. When he gets to work, he notices Ian isn't there yet and vaguely remembers some shit about today being the day he and the rest of the fucked up brigade would be carted off somewhere by CPS. He watches Linda work the register and glares at a couple shithead kids trying to stuff candy bars into their pockets and kicks their asses out the door.

It's quiet and slow during the day, so Mickey grabs a magazine and stands by the register, flipping through pages.

Something keeps nagging him at the back of his head. He keeps going over bits and pieces of what Ian told him last night and he hates that he can't just forget that shit.

When Ian finally shows up, they nod to each other, and Linda high tails it out of there. Ian walks down some of the aisles, making notes of what needs to be restocked and Mickey watches him out of the corner of his eyes. Ian disappears to the back and returns with some boxes of shit, but Mickey stays where he is. He's nobody's fucking stock boy and he gets to watch Ian's ass in those black jeans when he bends over. Win-win.

As Ian stocks, Mickey keeps thinking.

He hates himself for it but he can't get it out of his head that none of the other shitheads Ian's been with have been able to make him come with their dicks. Mickey likes what he likes and a good, hard, dirty fuck that makes him come seeing stars and so he'll feel it for a few days after is what he likes.

And he'll never admit it to anyone but it fucking pisses him off that no one has ever done that for Ian.

Mickey watches Ian stocking shelves and he bites his lip, trying to justify this shit to himself. He wonders for a split second if Ian would laugh in his face for what he's thinking about doing, but then thinks maybe, Ian wouldn't have told him all that shit in the first place if on some level, he didn't want Mickey in that way.

Spikey had been Ian's first, Kash had been his dirty secret, and that fuckbag Lloyd had been his sugar daddy. Mickey could be the first one to fucking own his ass and make him come. Because he liked to get his fuck on and he liked it with Ian.

Mickey smirks. Done. Justified. Because when he looks at it like that, it makes all the sense in the world. Mickey is a competitive, selfish, bastard and this is something he can give Ian while maintaining that status.

He puts his magazine back on the shelf and walks down a few aisles, making sure the store is empty. On his way over to Ian, he pockets a tube of lube and when he passes Ian, he says, "Lock the doors. I'll meet you in back."

Mickey doesn't have long to wait and when Ian walks in the back, the ginger fuckhead is grinning and already has his hands undoing his belt.

"Not so fast." Mickey grins at Ian's face. He walks to him and grabs handfuls of Ian's shirt, pulling him closer. "I wanna fuck you," Mickey says quietly and adds a little punctuating thrust of his hips into Ian's.

Ian's eyebrows shoot up and then he frowns. "Is this because of what I told you last night?"

"Yep." There was no point in Mickey lying about it and as Ian rolled his eyes and stepped away from him, Mickey got annoyed. It was what it was and all that shit but it was in his head now and he wasn't going to get over it until he got it out of his system.

"Fucking hell Mick," Ian sighed. "That's not why I told you any of that."

"I know." He did. He really did know. Ian had told him all of his past nonsense because in his head they were on this path together or some shit and they were supposed to be close and know things about each other but fuck. Mickey wasn't good at this. He was good at hitting, dealing, and fucking. Relationship bullshit went over his head, and he decided it was best left like that. It was better that way, for the both of them, in the long run.

Ian crossed his arms over his chest and Mickey took a step closer to him. "Are you scared or something?" Ian glared at him and Mickey thought he might be onto something.

"No."

"Then what the fuck is your problem?"

Ian stayed quiet and Mickey's fingers fidgeted, wishing he'd remembered his cigarettes.

"It probably won't even work anyway and I just don't want you to… I don't even know. Be fucking disappointed or something." Mickey just looked at him, eyebrows raised and a grin playing on his lips.

Ian rose up to his full height. "Don't fucking smile. Jesus." And then he chewed on his thumbnail, before shaking his head. "We learned in ninth grade sex ed that not everyone can come from penetration." Ian shrugged. "I'm like that. Who gives a shit?"

Mickey blinks. Well. "Fuck that."

And then he has Ian pressed up against the door, his hands pulling his shirt off and then they're in his pants trying to touch everything, his mouth breathing hot air against Ian's neck. Ian's eyes are wide, but he touches Mickey back, pulling his 'Security' vest off and undoing the button of his jeans. His sure hands and the teeth on his neck make Mickey hard and he gets a little light headed when Ian kisses his lips. He can feel that Ian's hard through his jeans and Mickey thinks hell yes.

Mickey searched around in his pocket, letting his keys, painkillers, and lighter fall to the floor as he fished out a condom. He yanked Ian's arm and pulled him over to a shelf and turned him around. He pulled the black jeans and the boxers down and ran his hands over Ian's ass. He tells him to spread his legs and Mickey can feel them shake a little. Ian was breathing heavily and when Mickey coated some fingers in lube and started to slowly finger him, Ian laid his forehead down on his arm, and Mickey felt him move his hips back.

He ripped the condom wrapper open with his teeth, rolled it on, and then lined himself up. He paused, placing a hand on Ian's back. "Okay?" He was breathless and felt the adrenaline rolling through his body because Christ this felt good and they weren't even fucking yet. It felt like the beginning of a really good, intense high.

"Yeah." Ian's nodding his head and his shoulders are heaving and Mickey slowly starts pushing in, biting his tongue because holy fuck. Ian was warm and tight and Mickey had to close his eyes. Before he made the mistake of thinking out loud about why they didn't do it this way more often, he started moving his hips slowly, just rocking and trying to let Ian get used to it.

Mickey doesn't know how long it takes, but one second Ian's back is straight, his shoulders hunched and his breathing stopped, but then the next, he fucking backs up onto Mickey's dick and Mickey is all the way inside him. And Ian's back arches and he lets out this sound that goes straight through Mickey.

"Oh god…yes…"

Okay then. Mickey holds his hips tight and pushes back into him a little harder and his head lolls to the side because Ian is so tight and warm and the absolute fucking best. He holds still for a second and when he sees Ian's starting to move his hips, Mickey couldn't fight it anymore. His hips snapped forward and he got into a rhythm and his high was made better by these grunts and moans that Ian was making.

"Fuck…fuck…" Mickey gripped his hips tighter, one hand moving around Ian's front and stroking his hard dick, the one clear thought in his head to own the body bent over in front of him. So he fucks Ian the way he himself likes it: hard, fast, kinda dirty, because let's face it, Ian has had some shitty experience taking it, and Mickey wants it to be good for him.

Ian gasps and Mickey knows it's about to happen and all he can think is fucking yes, do it. He leans closer to Ian, so his chest is lined up with his back and he nips at the pale skin and the shoulder blades in front of him and Ian swears again before his body goes still and straight and he squeezes down on Mickey's dick like a hot vice. Then he's shaking, coming down from his high, while Mickey thrusts into him once, twice more and he's coming. It shoots through him, filling up his body with tiny electric shocks and the high is the best thing he's ever felt. He rocks slowly into Ian's body after that and rubs a hand down his back before pulling out.

He's still breathless when he looks at Ian, whose shoulders are shaking and… shit. Mickey has a second where he feels like a complete jackass, but then Ian turns around, is tripping over his boxers and jeans and is grabbing onto Mickey, his cheeks red and this big smile on his face.

"Holy shit." And Mickey just smiles and lets Ian kiss his mouth. He listens sort of when Ian starts talking about them doing that again and again, because he's distracted by Ian's abs and arms and his stupid face and the feeling he's getting in his chest by just looking at him all flushed in the after glow.

After they pulled their clothes on and were back out in the store, Ian doesn't lose the smile on his face and Mickey feels fucking amazing because that smile makes him feel like he's done something right for once.

* * *

Thank you for reading whatever this was!


End file.
